


where the years went i can't say

by internetakeover (nymeriahale)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Moving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/internetakeover
Summary: “Will you miss this hallway Dan?” Phil asks, standing behind Dan’s head to film him upside down. He’s seen him like this too many nights to count, more than he would have liked. Yet he kind of is genuinely sad this staple of living will never again repeat itself - unless the process of moving makes Dan especially crisis-y, which is very possible.“I mean, where else will I lie to contemplate death?” Dan asks. “It’s just such a perfect, long, bleak corridor to lie facedown on.”Phil laughs, “I don’t know!” he replies, genuinely thinking about it. There are no such narrow corridors in their new place. It’s open, light. There’s no space that automatically lends itself to such a state of mind.





	where the years went i can't say

**Author's Note:**

> title from Across The Great Divide by Frank Solivan, as heard in the film Pride.

“Will you miss this hallway Dan?” Phil asks, standing behind Dan’s head to film him upside down. He’s seen him like this too many nights to count, more than he would have liked. Yet he kind of is genuinely sad this staple of living will never again repeat itself - unless the process of moving makes Dan especially crisis-y, which is very possible.

“I mean, where else will I lie to contemplate death?” Dan asks. “It’s just such a perfect, long, bleak corridor to lie facedown on.”

Phil laughs, “I don’t know!” he replies, genuinely thinking about it. There are no such narrow corridors in their new place. It’s open, light. There’s no space that automatically lends itself to such a state of mind. 

It’s foolish, of course. Just because a space is bright doesn’t mean their lives will be. Endless possibilities mean unhappiness as much as joy, no matter what trend he’d like to imagine they’re on. It’s true that all his imaginings of Dan lying facedown are immediately continued by the image of a curious dog sniffing at his face, licking him and dissolving the moment into laughter, but no. There’ll be tears and blood in the new place same as the old, it comes along with laughter and... other bodily fluids. 

For now he shakes himself, steps forward past a box - and maybe Dan _won’t_ have another crisis in this hallway, there’s hardly space for it - and pans down Dan’s body, sweeping over his chest, past hands interlaced over the slight soft give of his lower abdomen - fallen where no ribs hold firm - all the way down to socked feet.

“Kitchen next?” Phil asks, lowering the camera.

“Nope,” Dan responds. “I’m comfortable here thanks, you can go!” he wiggles his hips a little, as if settling further into the carpet. It's unreasonably cute.

Phil kneels, drops an upside down kiss on Dan's forehead as he has so many times before.

“Up,” he says firmly, going to stand again.

“Down?” Dan coaxes, reaching out to grab Phil’s wrist.

“Ugh,” Phil huffs, mostly for show, and complies. There’s not really space to lie like he normally does, head next to Dan’s and legs pointed away, but he tries. He ends up having to rest his feet on one box, uncomfortable edges digging into his flesh from below his feet, and into his thigh from yet another box on his right.

“So,” he says, turning to stare at Dan’s profile.

“So,” Dan echoes, tilting his head towards Phil while still staring over him at the wall. Phil takes a quick glance but nope, nothing interesting. Just a couple of marks they’d put on years ago, things he’s seen a thousand times. He turns back to Dan.

“Any crisis thoughts to share?” Phil prompts. “We’ve not been down here in a while.” 

It’s not just crises that have had them down here. Dan lying facedown signals a crisis, but they’ve been like this drunk too, on their backs and giggling when the walk to the bedroom is too unstable. That, Phil can imagine in the new place. He can imagine it fairly soon, with all the mutterings from friends and family. If they don’t throw their own house warming party within about a month of unpacking Phil’s starting to think they might have one thrown for them.

“No, just... This is really happening.” Dan makes eye contact with Phil now, so close he visibly has to pick an eye to focus on.

“Has been for a while now,” Phil says lightly, reaching up to push at Dan’s curls, fallen hopelessly across his face. He can’t rescue them from gravity so he plays instead, shifting them back into place and tugging lightly. Dan’s eyes flutter shut.

“I know, I mean-” Dan’s mouth pulls to one side. “I’m just... so happy.” It’s soft, quiet, like he almost thinks he’s not allowed to say it in this space. He opens his eyes again, expression turned as soft as his voice, and Phil’s heart leaps into his throat. 

He’d do anything to keep Dan looking like this, so peacefully happy, do anything to stay the one allowed to see this open vulnerability written across his face. The fact that all he needs to do is lay down and listen will never cease to be a miracle in his eyes. Everything he ever has to do to maintain this, keep this, is something he’s happy to, wants to, do. And again, of course, he’s over romanticising. That’s not true, there’ll be a compromise within the first few days of moving in that disproves him, but... he wants that too. Wants negotiation and working together, dissatisfaction easing into a solution they can both live with.

For example: Phil can’t kiss Dan like this. They discovered it years ago and Phil suspects a part of Dan actually liked it, needed Phil to listen and interrupt with kisses when he couldn’t bear the words coming out of Dan’s mouth. But Phil needs to express his support physically, sometimes - often it’s the best way he knows how. So: he leans in, tilting down until he touches his forehead against Dan’s.

“Me too,” Phil replies, just as hushed. “Me too.”

“Video,” Dan reminds Phil, after a long moment.

“Uh huh,” Phil agrees, but makes no move when Dan doesn’t. He’ll bask in this, for now, one of the last moments of peace in this place. 

In a few minutes they’ll film again, but for now there’s just this. Something quiet, something private, for all it’s the least it’s ever been. Something kept just for them, while they share almost without pause. The adventure of moving is open, times like this are closed. Personal times kept personal, a boundary redefined so drastically - now finally, hopefully, getting towards comfortable. They’ve explored so much, changed so much, within this set of walls. The next lot will no doubt come with their own set of challenges to navigate. Naive as may be, Phil can’t help but think the foundation they first formed in Manchester, forged in this apartment, sets them up strong for almost anything.

**Author's Note:**

> omg i wrote a thing. idek.
> 
> as always you can find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/nymeriahale) and [tumblr](http://internetakeover.tumblr.com)! and have you done the [Dan and Phil Survey](https://goo.gl/forms/z4lQo0dXw6LdxcJQ2) yet? you should.


End file.
